


A Path Less Clear

by jane_with_a_j



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands Week 2019, M/M, Talking to God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-11-02 01:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_with_a_j/pseuds/jane_with_a_j
Summary: Certain death has been avoided. Long-unspoken feelings have finally been spoken. The world didn't end. This is a happy ending, right? Is this what was meant to be, all along?  And what happens now?As he often does when he feels lost, Crowley talks to God. She's never answered him before.





	A Path Less Clear

**Author's Note:**

> For Ineffable Husbands Week, day 7
> 
> Prompt: Destiny

Six thousand years' worth of anxiety doesn't just disappear in a day. Not even a day like this one, a day that saw lost treasures restored, certain death averted, and long-unspoken feelings finally put into words.

Lunch at the Ritz had been perfect. The walk they had taken after lunch had been perfect. The drive back to Crowley's flat – together – had been perfect. It hadn't been until they were safely inside that Aziraphale had started to fall apart.

The angel had apologized, over and over again, working himself up into a tizzy of worry that his worrying would upset Crowley, would drive him away. (As if anything could drive him away now.)

Crowley had gotten used to Aziraphale's bouts of anxiety over the centuries, and had gotten rather good at talking him through them. It wasn't as though his worries were unfounded. It _was_ possible that Heaven or Hell would figure out the trick they had pulled and come after them again. It _was_ possible that their former bosses would find some other way to punish them for what they had done. It was not only possible, but probable, that another War was coming, although it was surely a long way off. They had faced down Armageddon this week. Whatever came next, they would face that too. Together.

Together. The thought had seemed to calm Aziraphale, somewhat. But he was still tense. There was only one thing for it, Crowley had declared. Sleep.

Aziraphale didn't own any pyjamas, and even if he had, they would have been back at the bookshop anyway. Miracling up an appropriate set had been easy enough. Pale blue cotton, soft and warm. Coaxing the angel to put them on and get into the bed had been harder. Aziraphale rarely slept, and hadn't been convinced he'd even be able to. And he hadn't wanted to be left alone.

Well, fair enough. Crowley didn't particularly want to be alone either. It wasn't any kind of a hardship, really, to crawl under the covers with the angel and pull him close. Aziraphale, for his part, for all his doubts that he'd be able to sleep, dropped off almost immediately, even before Crowley could finish promising him that he wasn't going anywhere, that he would be right here with him, all night.

Which left Crowley lying awake, with the angel in his arms, in the bed he had never shared with anyone before, unable to decide how he should feel.

Aziraphale wasn't wrong to worry about what was ahead. It wasn't just the danger that their respective Head Offices would come for them again. It wasn't just the certainty that another War would come, eventually. It was everything before then. It was time, however much time they had, maybe months, maybe years, maybe centuries or even millennia yet, stretching out before them with no clear picture of what they should do with it. Oh, spend it together, obviously. Do things that they hadn't dared to do before. Travel together openly. Kiss. Hold hands in public. There were so many opportunities for happiness, now. But what were their roles in this new world? Did they continue on with the blessing and the tempting, or should they consider themselves retired? What did retirement even look like for an angel and a demon?

“You there, God?” he said softly. “Is this what you planned?”

_Always so many questions._

Crowley held his breath. His eyes darted around the room. He hadn't heard that voice since before the dawn of time, but he would know it anywhere. He'd never thought he'd hear it again.

_You did well,_ said the voice.

“Did we?”

_Do you doubt, then?_ The voice sounded amused.

“Kind of what I do,” said Crowley. The voice was silent. “Why now?” he asked. “After all of these centuries, why are you talking to me now?”

_Is that the question you want answered?_

“There are a lot of questions I want answered.”

_Choose one._

Just one? Where to begin? Why just the one, for starters?

“What should we do?” he asked. His voice sounded very small.

_Oh, Crowley. You don't really want Me to answer that one._

“Of course I do!”

_You don't. You don't want Me to tell you what to do. You chose a different path a long time ago,_ said the voice.

“When I Fell,” said Crowley. It wasn't a question. “When You let me Fall.”

_You say that as though you think it was wrong of Me,_ said the voice, _to let you Fall._

“I didn't really mean to do it,” said Crowley.

_Didn't you? You made a choice. And choices have consequences. If you'd chosen differently, that choice would have had consequences, too._

Crowley thought about Heaven. About the cold, righteous efficiency of the Archangels. About the toll it had taken on Aziraphale, all of these millennia, having them always looking over his shoulder. About the casual cruelty with which Gabriel had told Aziraphale to _shut your stupid mouth, and die already._ The life of a demon didn't entirely suit Crowley, it was true. The life of an angel would have suited him even less.

_It's a mistake,_ the voice said, _to think that only humans can have free will. It comes more easily to them, but it isn't theirs alone. All of My children have the capacity to choose. There are some who haven't realized that. There are some who have, but who are too afraid, too proud, or too set in their ways to know what to do about it, and so they do nothing. They continue on as they always have, not realizing that by doing so, they too have made their choice._

“Do those choices have consequences, too?” Crowley heard the sarcasm in his voice, and cringed inwardly. This was probably not the best way to talk to the Almighty. But then, what the Heaven, right? She couldn't exactly make him Fall again.

_Is that your question?_ Again, She sounded amused.

“Nah,” said Crowley. “S'just ... rhetorical.”

_It wasn't just when you Fell,_ She said. _You've chosen free will again and again, for as long as you've been in the world. For what it's worth, I think it was the right choice. Every time._

“Did you really have a plan?” Crowley asked. It wasn't a practical question. But, as soon as the words passed his lips, he knew that it was the only question that mattered.

_Oh, yes,_ She said. _I planned to see what you would do._

“That's ... that's not funny,” said Crowley.

_It wasn't meant to be._

“That's not very reassuring.”

_No? Then let Me clarify. By “you,” I don't mean you specifically. I mean all of you. Everyone. _

"Everyone."

_You aren't any more special than anyone else, Crowley. But that means you're not alone, either._ _There are others. Others who have chosen, or will choose, to do what they were not supposed to do, to love what they were not supposed to love, to be what they were not supposed to be._

Crowley thought about this for a moment. “Adam Young, for one,” he said.

_Indeed._

“So these others...?”

_Perhaps you will find them, someday. Perhaps they will find you. Perhaps they will do what needs to be done on their own, leaving you none the wiser. Perhaps they will fail._

"Are You not telling me what will happen, or do You actually not know?"

_It makes no difference. There is much that is written. But what is written can always be crossed out._

“I'm having trouble deciding if that's reassuring or not."

The sound that followed was something very much like laughter. _Oh, Crowley,_ She said. _I've always liked you._

Before Crowley could respond to that, a bright light filled the room. Crowley shut his eyes tightly against it. When he opened them, the light was still there, hitting him full in the face. But it wasn't divine radiance, only a shaft of sunlight, shining through a crack in his blackout curtains.

He was still clinging to Aziraphale. He lay there for a long moment, unmoving, trying to decide whether that conversation had really happened, or if he had dreamed the whole thing.

“You were right.”

At the sound of the angel's voice, Crowley shifted. Aziraphale's eyes were open, and there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Of course I was right,” said Crowley. “Uh. What, exactly, was I right about?”

“Mm,” said Aziraphale. “Sleep. I do feel better.”

“Ah,” said Crowley. “Glad to hear it.”

“It's the strangest thing,” said Aziraphale. “I've slept before. Not often, mind you, but I've done it. But...”

“But?”

“Well,” said the angel. “Something happened that has never happened to me before.” His expression was wistful. “I dreamed. It was the most remarkable dream...”

**Author's Note:**

> The line about how things that are written can always be crossed out comes from Adam, in the book.
> 
> The line "Oh yes. I planned to see what you would do" is pilfered directly from Terry Pratchett's novel Hogfather.
> 
> The title is from a misheard Rush lyric.
> 
> I might do a companion piece to this at some point, from Aziraphale's point of view. Maybe.


End file.
